_A strange manuscript found in a copper cylinder_
          (the thirteenth installment)

   from _Harper's weekly_ (1888-mar-31) 
           (by James De Mille)


CHAPTER XX  THE DARK MAIDEN LAYELAH

LAYELAH at length began to make pointed remarks about Almah.

  "She loves you," said she, "and you love her.  How is it
that you do not give each other up?"

  "I would die rather than give up Almah," said I.

  Layelah smiled.  "That sounds strange to the Kosekin,"
said she, "for here to give up your love and to die are both
esteemed the greatest possible blessings.  But Almah should
give you up.  It is the women with us who make the
beginning.  Women generally fall in love first, and it is
expected that they will tell their love first.  The delicacy
of a woman's feelings makes this natural, for if a man tells
his love to a woman who does not love him, it shocks her
modesty; while if a woman tells a man, he has no modesty to
shock."

  "That is strange," said I; "but suppose the man does not
love the woman?"

  "Why, no woman wants to be loved; she only wants to love."

  At this I felt somewhat bewildered.

  "That," said Layelah, "is unrequited love, which is the
chief blessing here, though for my part I am a philosopher,
and would wish when I love to be loved in return."

  "And then," said I, "if so, would you give up your lover,
in accordance with the custom of your country?"

  Layelah's dark eyes rested on me for a moment with a
glance of intense earnestness and profound meaning.  She
drew a long breath, and then said, in a low, tremulous
voice,

  "Never!"

  Layelah was constantly with me, and at length used to come
at an earlier time, when Almah was present.  Her manner
toward Almah was full of the usual Kosekin courtesy and
gracious cordiality.  She was still intent upon learning
from me the manners, customs, and principles of action of
the race to which I belonged.  She had an insatiable thirst
for knowledge, and her curiosity extended to all of those
great inventions which are the wonder of Christendom. 
Locomotives and steamboats were described to her under the
names of "horses of fire" and "ships of fire"; printing was
"letters of power"; the electric telegraph, "messages of
lightning"; the organ, "lute of giants," and so on.  Yet, in
spite of the eagerness with which she made her inquiries,
and the diligence with which she noted all down, I could see
that there was in her mind something lying beneath it all--a
far more earnest purpose, and a far more personal one, than
the pursuit of useful knowledge.

  Layelah was watchful of Almah; she seemed studying her to
see how far this woman of another race differed from the
Kosekin.  She would often turn from me and talk with Almah
for a long time, questioning her about her people and their
ways.  Almah's manner was somewhat reserved, and it was
rendered somewhat more so from the fact that her mind was
always full of the prospect of our impending doom.  Each
_jom_ as it came and went brought us nearer to that awful
time, and the hour was surely coming when we should be taken
to the outer square and to the top of the pyramid of
sacrifice.

  Once Layelah sat for some time silent and involved in
thought.  At length she began to speak to me. 

  "Almah," said she, "is very different from us.  She loves
you and you love her.  She ought to give you up.  Almah, you
ought to give up Atam-or, since you love him."

  Almah looked confused, and made some reply to the effect
that she belonged to a different race with different
customs.

  "But you should follow our customs.  You are one of us
now.  You can easily find another who will take him."

  Almah threw a piteous glance at me and said nothing.

  "I," said Layelah, "will take him."

  She spoke these words with an air of magnanimity, as
though putting it in the light of a favor to Almah; but
Almah did not make any reply, and after some silence Layelah
spoke of something else.

  Not long after we were alone together, and Layelah
returned to the subject.  She referred to Almah's want of
sympathy with the manners of the Kosekin, and asserted that
she ought to aim after a separation.

  "I love her," said I, with great warmth, "and will never
give her up."

  "But she must give you up; it is the woman s place to take
the first step.  I should be willing to take you."

  As Layelah said this she looked at me very earnestly, as
if anxious to see how I accepted this offer.  It was for me
a most embarrassing moment.  I loved Almah, but Layelah also
was most agreeable, and I liked her very much; indeed, so
much so that I could not bear to say anything that might
hurt her feelings.  Among all the Kosekin there was not one
who was not infinitely inferior to her in my eyes.  Still, I
loved Almah, and I told her so again, thinking that in this
way I might repel her without giving offence.

  But Layelah was quite ready with her reply.

  "If you love Almah," said she, "that is the very reason
why you should marry me."

  This made me feel more embarrassed than ever.

  I stammered something about my own feelings--the manners
and customs of my race--and the fear that I had of acting
against my own principles.  "Besides," I added, "I'm afraid
it would make you unhappy."

  "Oh no," said Layelah, briskly; "on the contrary, it would
make me very happy indeed."

  I began to be more and more aghast at this tremendous
frankness, and was utterly at a loss what to say.

  "My father," continued Layelah, "is different from the
other Kosekin, and so am I.  I seek requital for love, and
do not think it an evil."

  A sudden thought now suggested itself, and I caught at it
as a last resort.

  "You have," said I, "some lover among the Kosekin.  Why do
you not marry him?"

  Layelah smiled.

  "I have no lover that I love," said she, "among the
Kosekin."

  My feeble effort was thus a miserable failure.  I was
about saying something concerning the Kosekin alphabet or
something else of an equally appropriate nature, when she
prevented me.

  "Atam-or," said she, in a low voice.

  "Layelah," said I, with my mind full of confusion.

  "I love you!"

  She sat looking at me with her beautiful face all aglow
her dark eyes fixed on mine with an intense and eager gaze. 
I looked at her and said not one single word.  Layelah was
the first to break the awkward silence.

  "You love Almah, Atam-or; but say, do you not love me? 
You smile at me, you meet me always when I come with warm
greetings, and you seem to enjoy yourself in my society. 
Say, Atam-or, do you not love me?"

  This was a perilous and a tremendous moment.  The fact is,
I did like Layelah very much indeed, and I wanted to tell
her so; but my ignorance of the language did not allow me to
observe those nice distinctions of meaning which exist
between the words "like" and "love."  I knew no other word
than the one Kosekin word meaning "love," and could not
think of any meaning "like."  It was, therefore, a very
trying position for me.

  "Dear Layelah," said I, floundering and stammering in my
confusion, "I love you; I----"

  But here I was interrupted without waiting for any further
words; the beautiful creature flung her arms around me and
clung to me with a fond embrace.  As for me, I was utterly
confounded, bewildered, and desperate.  I thought of my
darling Almah, whom alone I loved.  It seemed at that moment
as though I was not only false to her, but as if I was even
endangering her life.  My only thought now was to clear up
my meaning.

  "Dear Layelah," said I, as I sat with her arms around me,
and with my own around her slender waist, "I do not want to
hurt your feelings."

  "Oh, Atam-or! oh, my love! never, never did I know such
bliss as this."

  Here again I was overwhelmed, but I still persisted in my
effort.

  "Dear Layelah," said I, "I love Almah most dearly and most
tenderly."

  "Oh, Atam-or, why speak of that?  I know it well.  And so
by our Kosekin law you give her up: among us, lovers never
marry.  So you take me, your own Layelah, and you will have
me for your bride; and my love for you is ten thousand times
stronger than that of the cold and melancholy Almah.  She
may marry my papa."

  This suggestion filled me with dismay.

  "Oh no," said I.  "Never, never will I give up Alma!"

  "Certainly not," said Layelah; "you do not give her 
up--she gives you up."

  "She never will," said I.

  "Oh yes," said Layelah; "I will tell her that you wish
it."

  "I do not wish it," said I.  "I love her, and will never
give her up."

  "It's all the same," said Layelah.  "You cannot marry her
at all.  No one will marry you.  You and Almah are victims
and the State has given you the matchless honor of death.
Common people who love one another may marry if they choose,
and take the punishment which the law assigns but
illustrious victims who love cannot marry, and so, my
Atam-or, you have only me."

  I need not say that all this was excessively embarrassing
I was certainly fond of Layelah, and liked her too much to
hurt her feelings.  Had I been one of the Kosekin I might
perhaps have managed better; but being a European, a man of
the Aryan race--being such, and sitting there with the
beautiful Layelah lavishing all her affections upon 
me--why, it stands to reason that I could not have the heart
to wound her feelings in any way.  I was taken at an utter
disadvantage.  Never in my life had I heard of women taking
the initiative.  Layelah had proposed to me, she would not
listen to refusal, and I had not the heart to wound her.  I
had made all the fight I could by persisting in asserting my
love for Almah, but all my assertions were brushed lightly
aside as trivial things.

  Let any gentleman put himself in my situation, and ask
himself what he would do.  What would he do if such a thing
could happen to him at home?  But there such a thing could
not happen, and so there is no use in supposing an
impossible case.  At any rate I think I deserve sympathy. 
Who could keep his presence of mind under such
circumstances?  With us a young lady who loves one man can
easily repel another suitor; but here it was very different,
for how could I repel Layelah?  Could I turn upon her and
say "Unhand me"?  Could I say "Away!  I am another's"?  Of
course I couldn't; and what's worse, if I had said such
things Layelah would have smiled me down into silence.  The
fact is, it doesn't do for women to take the
initiative--it's not fair.  I had stood a good deal among
the Kosekin.  Their love of darkness, their passion for
death, their contempt of riches, their yearning after
unrequited love, their human sacrifices, their cannibalism,
all had more or less become familiar to me, and I had
learned to acquiesce in silence; but now when it came to
this--that a woman should propose to a man--it really was
more than a fellow could stand.  I felt this at that moment
very forcibly; but then the worst of it was that Layelah was
so confoundedly pretty, and had such a nice way with her,
that hang me if I knew what to say.

  Meanwhile Layelah was not silent; she had all her wits
about her.

  "Dear papa," said she, "would make such a nice husband for
Almah.  He is a widower, you know.  I could easily persuade
him to marry her.  He always does whatever I ask him to do."

  "But victims cannot marry, you said."

  "No," said Layelah, sweetly, "they cannot marry one
another, but Almah may marry dear papa, and then you and I
can be married, and it will be all very nice indeed."

  At this I started away.

  "No," said I, indignantly, "it won't be nice.  I'm engaged
to be married to Almah, and I'm not going to give her up."

  "Oh, but she gives you up, you know," said Layelah,
quietly.

  "Well, but I'm not going to be given up."

  "Why, how unreasonable you are, you foolish boy!" said
Layelah, in her most caressing manner.  "You have nothing at
all to do with it."

  At this I was in fresh despair, and then a new thought
came, which I seized upon.

  "See here," said I, "why can't I marry both of you?  I'm
engaged to Almah, and I love her better than all the world.
Let me marry her and you too."

  At this Layelah laughed long and merrily.  Peal after peal
of laughter, musical and most merry, burst from her.  It was
contagious; I could not help joining in, and so we both sat
laughing.  It was a long time before we regained our 
self-control.

  "Why, that's downright bigamy!" exclaimed Layelah with
fresh laughter.  "Why, Atam-or, you're mad!" and so she went
off again in fresh peals of laughter.  It was evident that
my proposal was not at all shocking, but simply comical,
ridiculous, and inconceivable in its absurdity.  It was to
her what the remark of some despairing beauty would be among
us who, when pressed by two lovers should express a confused
willingness to marry both.  It was evident that Layelah
accepted it as a ludicrous jest.

  Laughter was all very well, of course; but I was serious
and felt that I ought not to part with Layelah without some
better understanding, and so I once more made an effort.

  "All this," said I, in a mournful tone, "is a mere
mockery.  What have I to say about love and marriage?  If
you loved me as you say, you would not laugh, but weep.  You
forget what I am.  What am I?  A victim, and doomed--doomed
to a hideous fate--a fate of horror unutterable.  You cannot
even begin to imagine the anguish with which I look forward
to that fate which impends over me and Almah. 
Marriage--idle word!  What have I to do with marriage?  What
has Almah?  There is only one marriage before  us--the dread
marriage with death! Why talk of love to the dying?  The
tremendous ordeal, the sacrifice, is before us and after
that there remains the hideous Mista Kosek!"

  At this Layelah sprang up, with her whole face and
attitude full of life and energy.

  "I know, I know," said she, quickly; "I have arranged for
all.  Your life shall be saved.  Do you think that I have
consented to your death?  Never!  You are mine.  I will save
you.  I will show you what we can do.  You shall escape."

  "Can you really save me?" I cried.

  "I can."

  "What! in spite of the whole nation?"

  Layelah laughed scornfully.

  "I can save you," said she.  "We can fly.  There are other
nations beside ours.  We can find some land among the Gojin
where we can live in peace.  The Gojin are not like us."

  "But Almah?" said I.

  The face of Layelah clouded.

  "I can only save you," said she.

  "Then I will stay and die with Almah," said I,
obstinately.

  "What!" said Layelah, "do you not fear death?"

  "Of course I do," said I; "but I'd rather die than lose
Almah."

  "But it's impossible to save both of you."

  "Then leave me and save Almah," said I.

  "What! would you give up your life for Almah?"

  "Yes, and a thousand lives," said I.

  "Why," said Layelah, "now you talk just like the Kosekin.
You might as well be one of us.  You love death for the sake
of Almah.  Why not be more like the Kosekin, and seek after
a separation from Almah?"

  Layelah was not at all offended at my declaration of love
for Almah.  She uttered these words in a lively tone, and
then said that it was time for her to go.


CHAPTER XXI  THE FLYING MONSTER

I RETIRED to bed, but could not sleep.  The offer of escape
filled me with excited thoughts.  These made sleep
impossible, and as I lay awake I thought that perhaps it
would be well to know what might be Layelah's plan of
escape, for I might then make use of it to save Almah.  I
determined to find out all about it on the following 
_jom_--to question her as to the lands of the Gojin, to
learn  all her purpose.  It might be that I could make use
of that very plan to save Almah; but if not, why then I was
resolved to remain and meet my fate with her.  If Layelah
could be induced to take both of us, I was of course
resolved to go, trusting to chance as to the claims of
Layelah upon me, and determined at all hazards to be
faithful to Almah, but if she should positively refuse to
save Almah, then I thought it possible that I might be able
to find in Layelah's plan of escape something of which I
might avail myself.  I could not imagine what it was, but it
seemed to me that it might be something quite feasible,
especially for a desperate man.  The only thought I had was
of escape by means of some boat over the seas.  In a boat I
would be at home.  I could make use of a sail so as to elude
pursuit, and could guide myself by the stars.  The only
thing that I wanted to know was the situation of the lands
of the Gojin.

  On the following _jom_ the Kohen Gadol and Layelah came
quite early and spent much time.  I was surprised to see the
Kohen Gadol devoting himself in an absurd fashion to Almah. 
It at once occurred to me that Layelah had obtained her
father's co-operation in her scheme, and that the old
villain actually imagined that he could win the hand of
Almah.  To Almah herself I had said nothing whatever about
the proposal of Layelah, so that she was quite ignorant of
the intentions of her companion; but it was excessively
annoying to me to see such proceedings going on under my own
eyes.  At the same time I felt that it would be both unwise
and uncivil to interfere; and I was also quite sure that
Almah's affections were not to be diverted from me by
anyone, much less by such an elderly party as the Kohen
Gadol.  It was very trying, however, and, in spite of my
confidence in Almah, my jealousy was excited, and I began to
think that the party of philosophical Radicals were not so
agreeable as the orthodox cannibals whom I first met.  As
for Layelah, she seemed quite unconscious of any disturbance
in my mind.  She was as amiable, as sprightly, as
inquisitive, and as affectionate as ever.  She even outdid
herself, and devoted herself to me with an abandon that was
quite irresistible.

  After Almah had left me, Layelah came again, and this time
she was alone.

  "I have come," said she, "to show you the way in which we
can escape, whenever you decide to do so."

  It was the thing above all others which I wished to know,
and therefore I questioned her eagerly about it; but to all
of my questions she only replied that she would show me, and
I might judge for myself.

  Layelah led the way, and I followed her.  We traversed
long galleries and vast halls, all of which were quite
empty.  It was the sleeping-time, and only those were
visible who had some duties which kept them up later than
usual.  Faint, twinkling lights but feebly illuminated the
general gloom.  At length we came to an immense cavern,
which was darker than ever, and without any lamps at all.
Through a vast portal, which was closed with a barred
gateway, the beams of the brilliant aurora penetrated and
disclosed something of the interior.

  Here Layelah stopped and peered through the gloom while I
stood waiting by her side, wondering what means of escape
could be found in this cavern.  As I stood I heard through
the still air the sound as of living things.  For a time I
saw nothing, but at length I descried a vast, shadowy form
moving forward toward the portal, where the darkness was
less.  It was a form of portentous size and fearful shape,
and I could not make out at first the nature of it.  It
surpassed all that I had ever seen.  Its head was large and
its jaws long, armed with rows of terrible teeth like those
of a crocodile.  Its body was of great size.  It walked on
its hind-legs, so as to maintain itself in an upright
attitude, and in that position its height was over twelve
feet.  But the most amazing thing about this monster has yet
to be told.  As it walked its forearms waved and fluttered,
and I saw descending from them what seemed like vast folded
leathern wings, which shook and swayed in the air at every
step.  Its pace was about as fast as that of a man, and it
moved with ease and lightness.  It seemed like some enormous
bat, or rather like a winged crocodile, or yet again like
one of those monstrous dragons of which I had read, but in
whose actual existence I had never believed.  Yet here I saw
one living and moving before  me--an actual dragon, with the
exception of a tail; for that appendage, which plays so
great a part in all the pictures of dragons, had no place
here.  This beast had but a short caudal appendage, and all
its terrors lay in its jaws and in its wings.

  For a moment I stood almost lifeless with terror and
surprise.  Then I shrank back, but Layelah laid her hand on
my arm.

  "Don't be afraid," said she; "it's only an athaleb."

  "But won't it--won't it bite?" I asked, with a shudder.

  "Oh no," said Layelah; "it swallows its victuals whole."

  At this I shrank away still farther.

  "Don't be afraid," said Layelah again.  "Its jaws are
muzzled, and, besides, it's a tame athaleb.  Its jaws are
unmuzzled only at feeding-time.  But this one is very tame.
There are three or four others in here, and all as tame as I
am.  They all know me.  Come up nearer; don't be afraid. 
These athalebs are easily tamed."

  "How can such tremendous monsters be tamed?" I asked, in
an incredulous tone.

  "Oh, man can tame anything.  The athalebs are very docile
when they are taken young.  They are very long lived.  This
one has been in service here for a hundred seasons and
more."

  At this I began to regain my confidence, and as Layelah
moved nearer to the athaleb I accompanied her.  A nearer
view, however, was by no means reassuring.  The dragon look
of the athaleb was stronger than ever, for I could see that
all its body was covered with scales.  On its neck and back
was a long ridge of coarse hair, and the sweep of its vast
arms was enormous.  It was with a quaking heart that I stood
near; but the coolness of Layelah reassured me, for she went
close up, as a boy would go up to a tame elephant, and she
stroked his enormous back, and the monster bent down his
terrible head and seemed pleased.

  "This," said Layelah, "is the way we have of escaping."

  "This!" I exclaimed, doubtfully.

  "Yes," said she.  "He is trained to the service.  We can
mount on his back, and he will fly with us wherever I choose
to guide him."

  "What!" I exclaimed, as I shrank back--"fly!  Do you mean
to say that you will mount this hideous monster, and trust
yourself to him?"

  "Certainly," said Layelah, quietly.  "He is very docile.
There is harness here with which we can guide him.

  "Should you like to see him harnessed?"

  "Very much indeed," said I.

  Upon this Layelah walked up to the monster and stroked his
breast.  The huge athaleb at once lay down upon his belly. 
Then she brought two long straps like reins, and fastened
each to the tip of a projecting tip of each wing.  Then she
fastened a collar around his neck, to which there was
attached a grappling-iron.

  "We seat ourselves on his back," said Layelah.  "I guide
with these reins.  When we land anywhere I fasten him with
the grapple.  He looks dull now, but if I were to open the
gate and remove his muzzle he would be off like the wind."

  "But can he carry both of us?" I asked.

  "Easily," said Layelah.  "He can carry three persons
without fatigue."

  "Could you mount on his back now, and show me how you
sit?"

  Layelah readily assented, and mounted with the greatest
ease, seating herself on the broadest part of the back
between the wings.

  "Here," said she, "is room for you.  Will you not come?"

  For an instant I hesitated; but then the sight of her,
seated there as coolly as though she were on a chair
reassured me, and I climbed up also, though not without a
shudder.  The touch of the fearful monster was abhorrent but
I conquered my disgust and seated myself close behind
Layelah.  Here she sat, holding the reins in her hands, with
the grapple just in front of her; and, seated in this
position, she went on to explain the whole process by which
the mighty monster was guided through the air.

(End of thirteenth installment.)